


grá, love

by captainsamwilson (myshockblanket)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: (minor) - Freeform, Drunken Kissing, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Unrequited Love, cute stevebucky bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myshockblanket/pseuds/captainsamwilson
Summary: “Y’know, I think you’re like the moon.” Bucky said, quieting his volume to a hoarse whisper. “You’re so bright, and… well I’m not good with poetry kinda shit,” he said, laughing again, “but you make everything light again, even in the dark.”





	grá, love

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i impulsively decided to upload this oneshot bc its 1 am and im having a mental breakdown. i really hope somebody out there sees this and likes it.
> 
> i spent all of 25 minutes on this with no beta so please dont execute me if you hate it xoxo
> 
> (also the title is supposed to be 'love' in irish? pls correct me if im wrong!!!)

Steve hated going to bars, naturally. He wasn’t an introvert, so much as he could think of better ways to spend a humid night in August than standing awkwardly shoulder-to-shoulder with a sweaty, drunken stranger. And then, of course, there was the issue of how even being in the vague proximity of a bottle of beer got him absolutely wasted. But it was hard to say no to Bucky, especially after a long week of honest, hard work. A night out to relax was the easiest way to express his gratitude for his friend, the sole breadwinner in his life since his parents passed.

The streets were empty, Steve thought, for a Friday evening. He later realised that this was because seemingly the entire borough had packed into any club that had its lights on. The thick, sticky air and the sound of jazz that travelled with it hit them before they even reached the doorway, and Steve grimaced as the smell of perspiration and beer lingered in his nostrils.

“The things I do for you, Buck,” he said, smiling affectionately at the taller man as they walked into the mass of people jeering and dancing, “the things I do.”

“Oh come on Stevie, don’t you just love looking after me when I’m drunk?” Bucky retorted, feigning hurt.

Steve shot him a glare, but begrudgingly he knew that it was true. Bucky became a huge softie when he had some drink in him, he was even sweeter on Steve than usual, so it was hard not to fuss and coo over him as if he was a toddler that was taking his first steps. That night proved to be no different, and as Bucky grew increasingly hyper and excitable as he sat beside Steve on the cheap, scratchy leather barstools, Steve found himself growing fonder of him.

* * *

“Jus’ listen here now Steve,” Bucky slurred, “if I had a dollar for every time you’ve been too good to me, we’d be sipping on some fuckin’ 200 year old wines in a big country house right now.”

Steve smiled. “C’mon, you deserve this Buck. It’s the least I can do, what with you going out to help pay our rent every day. I don’t say it enough, but I really appreciate the stuff you do for me. I hope you know that.”

Bucky hicupped, and looked serious for a second, before bursting into a fit of uncharacteristically high pitched giggles. “Aw Stevie, don’t get all sappy on me now. Come on,” he said, getting up on his wobbly legs like a baby antelope and extending a sticky, liquor covered hand, “repay me in a dance?”

Steve looked out on the sea of heads and winced. “Do you want me to be crushed to death?”

Bucky giggled even more, hoisting Steve up off the stool. “Only in my arms, darling!”

Steve recoiled, the tender words causing a hot flush to rise over his face. He follwed Bucky to the edge of the room, noticing the way the head of close to every girl in the room turned as his friend passed. He wondered how Bucky was so indifferent to the attention, how he always seemed to act like Steve was the only person in the room, no matter where they were.

* * *

After a half hour of Bucky swinging his long limbs around in a drunken stupor under the pretense of ‘dancing’, Steve’s legs grew tired from following him around all night and so he slowly began coaxing his friend away from the drinks so they could head home. After a tearful goodbye to a complete stranger that Bucky had just met, (who was somehow more drunk than he was), the two men were outside in the early hours of a cloudless night, Bucky stumbling alongside his friend, pointing out everything he saw like a child who had stepped outdoors for the first time.

“Look Stevie!” he yelled, far too loudly for 3 in the morning, “look at the moon!”. He waved at the sky until Steve looked up at the bright ball of light in the sky.

“Yeah Buck,” he returned softly, “it’s real pretty.”

“Y’know, I think you’re like the moon.” Bucky said, quieting his volume to a hoarse whisper. “You’re so bright, and… well I’m not good with poetry kinda shit,” he said, laughing again, “but you make everything light again, even in the dark.”

Steve pondered on that, and managed an endearing smile as Bucky stumbled inside their apartment behind him. “That’s real sweet, Buck,” he said, closing the door. He turned back around to see his friend looking at him, no, _admiring_ him, with his wide grey eyes.

“You’re so pretty, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, as if he were asking him why, “you’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.” His face crumpled, and Steve put an arm on his friend’s shoulder, despite the embarassingly furious blush that erupted at the compliment.

“Why would you say that, Buck? You deserve the world. You’re the best man I know.” He felt his heart rate pick up as his friend’s intense gaze lingered on his lips. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.” He said, shaking it off. _It meant nothing, it meant nothing._

Bucky half turned, as if he was about to go up the stairs, but instead stepped closer to the shorter man, until they were near enough for Steve could smell the liquor on each hot breath that caressed his neck. Impulsively, he leaned closer, waiting, ( _hoping?_ ) for Bucky to close the gap. When he was met with soft, warm lips pressed against his own, Steve shuddered, and let his eyes flutter closed without even thinking. God, he had thought of this moment from time to time, but he never thought it could ever happen.

No, it was illegal, it was _wrong_ , and Bucky was drunk for God’s sake.

He felt sick. Before his friend could even clock the absence from his mouth, Steve booked it up the stairs, panting. He shut himself in the bathroom until he could no longer hear Bucky shuffling around while preparing for bed, and slowly tiptoed onto the tiny landing between their two rooms when he thought the coast was clear.

Instead, he was greeted by a rather forlorn looking Bucky standing in the doorway to his room, red-eyed.

“M’sorry Stevie. God, I’m so so sorry. I shoulda asked- no, I shouldn’t have done it in the first place. I thought- I just thought-“ his words caught in his throat and Steve noticed his lower lip quiver slightly.

“No,” Steve replied, sighing, “no, It’s my fault. You’re drunk and I took advantage of that. It meant nothing to you, I know,” Steve observed his friend’s frown deepen, “It did mean nothing, right? I mean not that I’m saying that it might have- I mean I’m not trying to delude myself I-“ He stopped abruptly, as Bucky crossed the short path between them.

“Can I?” he said, the sincerity bright and clear as the moonlight trickling in through the cheap shutters covering the window. He tucked a long blond lock behind Steve’s ear, and pressed his forehead against his. “I mean, do you want to?”

Steve tensed again. “Bucky you don’t have to try and pretend, I know it was a mistake, it’s ok-“

“No.” he said, firmly. “No. I want you Stevie. Right now, or when I’m stone cold sober, I just want you. It’s always been you.”

Steve’s heart jolted as if he’d just been electrocuted. At that moment, all coherent thought left his mind.

_He wants me. All this time._

Steve decided there was no time to wait any more. Who knew how much longer they’d both be around for?

He took a deep breath, and met his lips on his friend’s, and it felt good. It felt right. It felt like home.


End file.
